In her heart, she believed that he had kept his vow not to kill Feann. The only question was whether her foster father had granted him the same mercy.
Breanne swiped at the tears, gathering her emotions and pushing back against her fear.
You’re going to escape, she told herself. No matter what happens, you will find a way out.
And once she did, she would find out what had happened to Alarr and learn whether they could be together.
* * *
Hours passed, and afternoon faded into evening. Breanne had calmed her terror, forming a plan, despite her earlier fears. A knock sounded at the door, and a woman’s voice said, ‘May I come in?’
Breanne rose to her feet, and an older woman came inside, holding a loaf of bread, a small flagon, and a bundle of clothing. ‘I brought you food and wine.’ The matron set it down, but before she could leave, Breanne ran to the door.
‘Wait. Please.’ She blocked the woman’s exit. ‘I need your help.’
‘I can do nothing,’ she insisted. ‘Do not ask me to let you go. They will hurt my family.’
Breanne didn’t bother to ask who they were. Instead, she said, ‘How many guards are outside this shelter?’
The matron glanced at the doorway as if uncertain whether to answer. But at last, she mumbled, ‘Six.’
Then any attempts to flee would be futile. There was no means of escaping six men. She needed to find a different way, perhaps a hidden way out of the shelter. But there were no windows and no other exits from the dwelling.
She redirected her question. ‘What are they planning to do with me?’
The woman bit her lip, as if wondering whether to answer. She looked down at the bundle of food. ‘They will come for you on the morrow. The priest will hear your vows, and you are to marry Oisin MacLogan.’
So she had only one day left. Breanne sat down with the bread, her mind turning over the problem. She drew up her knees against her chest and closed her eyes. ‘Do I have until sunset for the wedding?’
‘No. They have planned it a few hours after dawn,’ she answered. With a glance at the door, the older woman withdrew a small eating knife from her waist. Without a word, she hid the dagger inside the bundle of clothing. It was an unexpected gift—and a chance to free herself. For a moment, the older woman met her gaze with understanding before she departed.
Breanne didn’t know how she would use the weapon, but it offered a slight glimmer of hope.
You can save yourself, she told herself. Be strong and use your wits.
But even so, she was afraid that her time was running out.
Chapter Twelve
It was late at night when they arrived at Clonagh. Rain pounded against them, soaking Alarr to the skin. The harsh weather offered an advantage, for it meant that no one would leave their shelter unless commanded to do so.
‘Are you certain you won’t remain outside?’ Feann questioned. ‘We need someone beyond the gates.’
‘Let it be one of your men,’ Alarr countered. He had no intention of being left behind—not while Breanne was in danger.
The king eyed him with annoyance but relented after a time. ‘Fine. But you must remain hidden.’
They approached the gate with stealth where one man guarded the entrance with a spear. To his surprise, Feann signalled to the guard. For a brief moment Alarr wondered if the king would betray him. He wouldn’t put it past Feann, for neither of them fully trusted the other. Instead, the king spoke quietly to the soldier, and they were allowed to enter.
‘Let no one see you,’ the guard warned. He pointed towards a grain storage shed. ‘When the next guard comes to take my place, I will come to you.’
The rain continued to pour in punishing sheets, but they made their way to the shed. Though it was cold, Alarr was grateful to be out of the harsh weather. He found a place to sit, and he wondered if Breanne was safe. It tempted him to leave the shelter and find her, for he knew not what Treasa had done.
‘We will make our plans tonight,’ Feann said in a low voice. ‘Nevin is one of my men. I sent him to Clonagh years ago, and no one knows of his loyalty to me.’
Alarr gave a nod, recognising it as a sound strategy. Yet, he questioned what the king would do now. ‘What is Breanne to you? A political pawn for your own alliances?’
Feann leaned back against the shed. ‘She is a daughter to me, in all but blood. I have cared for her since she was two years of age.’ There was a softness in his voice as he spoke of her.
‘But you intended to wed her to one of Cerball’s men,’ Alarr ventured.
‘It would have kept her safe from Treasa. I needed a strong man to marry her, one who would protect her and ensure that she would not be killed for her lands. A warrior.’
In the darkness, Alarr could not see Feann’s expression. He knew that the king had no wish to see Breanne with a man like him, though he didn’t say it. Even so, the thought of giving Breanne to another warrior filled him with a surge of possessive anger.
Another man would not understand that despite her façade of bravery, she had a tender heart and a fierce loyalty to her family. One day, when she bore children, he had no doubt she would fight to protect them. She was a strong woman, and she had faced threats that would have made others weep. Instead, she had risen up to meet those challenges.
Yet, he had turned her away for the sake of vengeance.
He closed his eyes, recognising what a mistake he had made. Although Feann wanted her to wed an Irish nobleman, Alarr knew he could not give her up a second time. She belonged to him and he was hers. Somehow, he would find a way to be with her.
The door swung open, and both of them unsheathed their weapons. ‘It’s me,’ came the voice of the guard, Nevin.
‘What can you tell us about Breanne?’ Feann asked.
The guard answered, ‘She is being held captive in the shelter at the far end of the ringfort. In the morning, Oisin plans to wed her and seize command of Clonagh.’ From the man’s tone, it was clear that he did not support Oisin’s leadership.
Alarr’s mood darkened, and he regretted not killing the man when he’d first had the opportunity. He would not hesitate a second time. He gritted his teeth and asked the guard, ‘Did he harm her?’
The guard’s silence weighed heavily. Then, after a time, he admitted, ‘Everyone heard her screams.’
Alarr felt his rage gather into a tight ball of hatred. He never should have let her leave. ‘I will see Oisin dead for this.’
Feann caught his arm. ‘Take your vengeance upon him. And I will see to Breanne’s safety first.’ In a low voice, he ordered the guard to leave.
At first, Alarr wanted to be the one to save Breanne. He blamed himself for what had happened, and he should be there for her.
And yet, he remembered how Breanne had felt abandoned by her father. She had gone into slavery, believing that Feann had left her, when the truth was, her father had tried to search for her. Moreover, if he sent the king to fight Oisin, Feann might not survive.
The decision weighed up on him as he tried to decide what was best. Breanne had left him, not wanting to witness their fight. She might not want to see him again, and he knew he would not be able to stop himself from embracing her.
Gods help him, he was in love with her. And he didn’t know if he had the strength to let her go. He could not force her to stay with him, nor was it right. She deserved the choice.
‘As you will,’ he told the king. ‘Go and save Breanne. I will face Oisin.’ If he placed his focus on killing his enemy, it would be a strong distraction.
The thought of being without Breanne was a physical ache inside him. If she did not want to see him again, it was best to leave Éireann and never look back.
There was a slight ease in the man’s tension. ‘And after he is dead? What then?’
‘I don’
t know the answer to that yet.’ It depended entirely on Breanne’s wishes. But after she had left him once, he doubted if she would change her mind.
The king’s expression darkened. ‘I was right about you. You were only using her for your own gains. Breanne never meant anything to you.’
At that, his temper exploded. He took Feann by the throat and shoved him against the wall. ‘Breanne meant everything to me. But I know I’m not the man she needs. I cannot ask her to turn her back on her homeland. I will do the right thing by her, even if it means walking away.’
He released Feann and stepped back. The king appeared startled by his outburst, but his demeanour turned thoughtful. ‘And what is it you think she needs?’
‘A powerful warrior who can love her and protect her. One who is whole.’ He hadn’t meant to voice the last part, but it was true. He had let her go, fearing he couldn’t fight for Breanne the way he wanted to. He never wanted to see her broken or hurt because of him.
‘You defeated me,’ Feann pointed out. ‘But I agree with you. Breanne should not wed a Lochlannach and abandon her kingdom. They need her now, more than ever.’
Alarr said nothing, though he was startled at Feann’s reminder. He had defeated a strong fighter, in the end. He might not have the speed or balance that he’d once had, but he had been a warrior all his life. Perhaps it was time to stop dwelling on the possibility of failure and live his life for her. Breanne had wanted him to leave the past behind, and he’d refused.
But now, he realised that he didn’t want any future without her in it. He would sacrifice everything to save her and give her the choice of becoming his wife. He wanted that, more than all else. If she refused, then after he killed Oisin, he would accompany Rurik to Northumbria. There, they could search for the other fighters who had slaughtered his kinsmen in Maerr.
For now, he hoped he could convince her to stay. In the meantime, he needed to find Breanne and free her from captivity.
‘What should we do about Treasa?’ Alarr asked.
‘She is dangerous,’ Feann admitted. ‘Ambitious, and I blame her for bringing this threat to Breanne.’ With a slight laugh, he suggested, ‘You could take her back to Maerr with you where she could do no harm.’
There was a slight lift in the tension between them, but Alarr shook his head. ‘Her fate should rest in Cerball’s hands.’
‘I agree.’ The king paused again as he regarded him. ‘What will you do afterwards?’
‘What I want to do and what I will do are not the same,’ he admitted. ‘I want to take Breanne back with me to Maerr. I want to wed her and keep her at my side.’ He saw the grim look of fury in Feann’s expression. ‘But it is her choice to make.’
‘You cannot ask her to surrender her kingdom. It’s better if you leave her behind, even if she grieves.’
He met the king’s gaze. ‘We both know she is worth more than any kingdom. I will do what is right.’
* * *
Breanne had spent most of the night making her plans. It was far better to feign surrender, for then, the others might let their guard down. She had tied the blade and sheath to her thigh beneath her shift. Though she didn’t truly know how she would use the weapon yet, she intended to leave Clonagh by any means necessary. A knock sounded at the door, and a woman’s voice called out, ‘Breanne, may I come inside?’ It was her mother.
She bit her tongue to keep from stating the obvious, that she was heavily guarded, and the door was locked. Instead, she answered, ‘Yes.’ This might be a chance to seize her escape, especially if her mother left the door unlocked.
Treasa lifted the bar and came inside. She was dressed in a crimson gown, and her hair was neatly braided and concealed within a cap. ‘I brought this for you to wear.’ In her arms, she held out a gown of soft yellow, the colour of morning sunshine. It was beautiful, and for a moment, Breanne imagined herself wearing the léine while marrying Alarr instead. The thought made her throat close up with emotion, for he was gone. She had left him of her own free will, and there was no one to save her now.
Her mother helped her change into the léine, and when she finished lacing up the gown, Treasa turned to look at her. ‘You are so beautiful, Breanne. I could not be prouder.’
‘And yet, you are handing me to the enemy,’ she countered. ‘You brought me here under the pretence of seeing my homeland. But all along, you intended to force this marriage.’
Treasa’s face turned pained. ‘Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.’
‘But you are not the one making the sacrifice, are you?’ She crossed her arms. ‘Oisin is not a kind man. He is not one you can manipulate to do your will.’
The expression on Treasa’s face never changed. ‘Oh, my sweet girl. You are so very young. Did you believe I would choose a man like Oisin without ensuring that you would be safe from him?’
Breanne didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’
Her mother drew close and lowered her voice. ‘Oisin is Cerball’s bastard son, but he is not a favourite. We will make the marital alliance and prove our loyalty to Cerball. But Oisin will not live long enough to be a threat.’
Treasa spoke of murder as if she were discussing food to prepare for an evening meal. ‘Wed him willingly, and I will see to it that he does not survive the wedding night.’
Breanne said nothing but only stared at her mother. Treasa folded her hands together. ‘Unless you want to lie with him?’
The thought made bile rise to her throat. ‘No.’
‘Good. Then I will bring you a potion to slip into his wine. He will fall asleep and never awaken.’
Breanne still could not bring herself to speak. Not only was her mother planning a murder, but she intended her daughter to carry out her plans. No matter that she despised Oisin, she was not a killer.
Treasa continued, ‘Let everyone believe that the marriage is consummated. I will bring your Lochlannach to you later, and you can attempt to conceive a child. We will claim it is Oisin’s, and the alliance will be finished.’ It was clear that her mother had no qualms about taking another man’s life if it served her purpose. And her lack of emotion was utterly chilling.
Breanne decided it was better to behave as if she were ignorant. She lowered her head, wondering how much time she had remaining.
Her unspoken question was answered when her mother asked, ‘Are you ready?’
No, she wasn’t. But it was far better to leave this chamber than to remain a prisoner. Before she could say anything, she heard the sound of a battle cry outside. Treasa pushed the door closed and blocked her path. Breanne peered through a crack in the door, and outside she saw a group of armed men charging forward. One of them was Alarr.
He was here. And from the looks of it, so was her foster father. Her emotions gathered up and spilled over as she could not stop her smile of joy. They had come for her, and both were alive.
When she glanced at Treasa, her mother’s face had turned furious. ‘Wait here,’ she said. After she closed the door, Breanne heard the sound of the wooden bar locking her inside.
Damn her for this.
She tried to stare through the cracks in the doorway and saw Oisin facing off against Alarr. Feann barked a command and then left with a group of his men. He was stopped by other soldiers, and she watched as the men fought one another. Fear pulsed inside her veins, but she forced herself to watch. Her gaze fixed upon Alarr. His sword moved with speed, and he struck Oisin hard. In his left hand he held a shield, and he used it to protect himself from his enemy’s punishing blows.
Over and over he attacked, and she found herself breathless, watching her warrior. He moved with confidence, and she knew he was fighting for her. She didn’t know how he had learned of the threat, but at the sight of him, she felt a surge of love.
No matter what had happened, he had always been there for her. She had co
mplete faith that he would protect her. And she would fight alongside him.
A shadow crossed her door, and she heard Feann’s voice. ‘Breanne, are you there?’
She called out, ‘I’m here.’ There was a noise of him lifting the wooden bar, and he threw the door open.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. His face was creased with worry, and her emotions welled up at the sight of him. ‘Did anyone hurt you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Breanne murmured. She was in his arms a moment later, and he stroked her hair back, gripping her in a fierce embrace.
‘We will get you out of here,’ he assured her. ‘I swear it.’
‘What about Alarr?’
‘He is fighting Oisin.’
Breanne clung to him, and her foster father escorted her from the shelter. They walked outside, and she froze at the sight of six guards surrounding them. Feann unsheathed his sword and faced them. ‘Go back inside, Breanne.’
She hesitated, for her foster father was badly outnumbered. With six men, they could easily kill him, and she could do nothing to stop it.
Don’t be a coward, she warned herself.
If she stood back and did nothing, he would die. And despite the danger, she didn’t believe they would kill her. She took a breath and stepped forward. ‘Stop!’ she called out to the soldiers. ‘Leave him. I will surrender without a fight.’
‘Breanne, no,’ Feann insisted. He appeared furious that she would refuse his protection. But she knew better than to let him face so many men. There was a greater chance that Alarr could help her, with her father’s support.
She moved another step, standing between them. One of the men seized her arm, while another kept his sword pointed at Feann. Her foster father glared at her. ‘Don’t do this. I can defend you long enough for you to escape.’
But she would not let him make the sacrifice. ‘I’m not going to stand aside and watch you die. Not when I can stop it from happening.’
Stolen By The Viking (Sons 0f Sigurd Series Book 1) Page 21